


Come, Thief

by Moriavis



Category: The Losers (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Canon Character of Color, Community: ante_up_losers, Female Character of Color, Gen, Male Character of Color, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-21
Updated: 2012-01-21
Packaged: 2017-10-29 21:32:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/324379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moriavis/pseuds/Moriavis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clay and his team imagine themselves gentlemen thieves, of a sort. Aisha doesn't think they're quite as clever as they think they are.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come, Thief

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saekhwa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saekhwa/gifts).



> lady_krysis is an enabler. Enough said. Thanks to the_gentlemans_revolt for the beta!

Jensen's voice crackled in Clay's ear. "I'm in."

Clay counted to five silently and then tapped his earpiece. "Now, Jensen."

There was a brief silence. "Got it, boss."

Clay didn't have to cue Cougar, and he took off his hat as the other security guards in the lobby went down, Cougar taking them down with a single tranq each. "Perfect."

" _De nada_ ," Cougar said, a smirk evident in his soft voice.

They had ten, maybe fifteen minutes until someone noticed something was wrong with the cameras, so Clay moved, unlocking the doors to let Roque in.

He stalked ahead of Roque just to make sure they didn't have any stragglers, and gestured to the vault. "We don't have much time—"

"I have a watch," Roque said dryly, shoving Clay aside and crouching in front of the vault, searching through his bag for Semtex and fixing the explosive to the door. "Just shut up and let me do my thing."

"I'm going to kick your ass one of these days," Clay muttered, and Roque smirked, his eyes fixed on the door. He stood and took a step back; a moment later there was a soft whoosh, a sound that Clay felt more than he heard as the explosion broke the lock, and the door swung open. Clay and Roque didn't waste any time, moving smoothly into the vault and stacking money in duffel bag after duffel bag, skimming through each stack they grabbed to check for dye packs and tossing aside the slim plastic packs as they came across them.

"Come on, come on, I'm burning gas here," Pooch complained in Clay's ear. "Get out here or I'm leaving you."

"Keep your panties on," Roque muttered, shouldering the duffel bags. "I'm on my way."

"I know you didn't just say that to me." Pooch's outrage came clearly through the tiny speaker. "I'm leaving your ass behind, asshole."

"You're going to get Clay all hot and bothered, talking to me like that." Roque grabbed the remaining bags and followed Clay out of the vault.

"Behave, boys, or I'll tell Cougar to shoot you." Clay gave Roque a glare just because Pooch wasn't there to see it, and then stopped once they were in the foyer of the bank, taking his position and flattening his hat back over his head.

"Someone's getting kinky." Roque took a tranq out of his pocket and uncapped it, stabbing Clay in the arm. "Sweet dreams, Clay."

Clay hit the floor before he could respond, the world going black around him.

~*~

Clay stirred when he heard the sirens, and then there was a paramedic talking to him, shining a light in his eyes that made his head ache. He got a trip to the hospital and gave his statement to the police—it was the same as the others that they would get that night; everything had been fine until he felt something stab his arm, and then the next thing he knew the paramedics were there. Easy, simple, clean. Eventually, they let him go home, and he immediately went to his room and passed out. Pooch and Roque would've gotten the money to safety, and they had all the time in the world to preen over another successful robbery after it all cooled down.

~*~

"You're getting pretty rich for being the guy who drives a car." Roque smirked at Pooch as he swigged his beer.

"You're just jealous." Pooch leaned back in his chair, his eyes distant and warm. "I'm going to buy something for Jolene for our anniversary. Something pretty."

"Aww, Pooch, that’s the sweetest thing I've ever heard," Jensen said with a laugh. "Buy her lots of presents. I'll help!"

"She laughed for an hour the last time you helped me pick out a present, so—and I say this with the greatest affection—fuck off and spend your own money." Pooch kicked at Jensen's chair, and Jensen flailed for a moment before settling back on the ground.

Clay leaned back in his own chair, mellow from the alcohol and the company, and he left the table only to get another beer. Roque and Pooch were ganging up on Jensen now; Cougar was out on the dance floor with a beautiful girl he'd picked up the moment they walked in, and everything was good in the world.

He was about to go back to the table when a woman walked in, drawing his eye like he was a compass and she was magnetic north. She walked up to the bar, all dark hair and smooth skin, and he cataloged her as he continued to drink his beer. Athlete, some martial arts training, maybe special ops. They all had a certain look about them. He would know, after all.

She gave him a measuring look and said, "A man stares at a woman like that, the least he should do is buy her a drink."

Clay arched an eyebrow, but nodded at the bartender, who popped the top on a beer and slid it over to her. She didn't complain about his choice of drink, swigging the beer like that was what she would have chosen on her own, and his own interest upped a notch. Roque caught his eye, his face cautious, and Clay gave him a minute shake of his head, wanting to get a better idea of this woman before they did anything rash.

"So what's a beautiful lady like you doing in a place like this?"

The woman gave him a sly smile. "Looking for some thieves."

Clay scanned the crowd of people in the bar as he wondered how many were backing her up. "Good luck."

"I don't need luck." She surveyed the room, taking another swig of her beer. "My name is Aisha. I'm also busy, Clay, so let's cut the crap. That sound good to you?"

Clay didn't bother looking at her. "Sounds good."

"I know about you and your friends," Aisha said quietly. "Franklin Clay and his losers are a legend. Robin Hood and his band of merry men."

Clay made a noncommittal sound, neither confirming or denying her statement.

Aisha flashed him a smile, all teeth as she leaned an arm against the bar. "I need a team with your skill. I've been tracking you for quite a while."

"Huh." Clay grinned, an easy twist of his lips. "Are you CIA? Al Qaeda?"

The smile on Aisha's face vanished as though it had never existed, and Clay stiffened, feeling the point of a knife pressed against his ribs. "I'm offering you an opportunity, Clay."

"Strange opportunity," Clay drawled, eyes darting to the space between them, where the knife was poking a hole into his shirt.

Aisha took a deep breath and said one word. "Max."

Clay clenched his fingers around the neck of his beer bottle, ignoring the prick of the knife. "Max."

"I thought that would get your attention." Aisha finished her beer and set it on the counter, the knife vanishing. She pushed a business card next to Clay's elbow. "Let me know if you're interested."

Clay fumbled at his jeans pocket to pull out his phone, and he snapped a picture of her, turning his head and pinning her with a look. "If you're lying, I'll hunt you down."

Aisha stared back at Clay. "You can try." Clay watched as she sauntered back out of the bar, and he waited a good ten minutes before he picked up the card. Aisha had him, and they both knew it. The opportunity to take something from Max was too enticing.

Christ, his team was going to kill him.


End file.
